


All Is Well or What Really Happened

by slythwolf



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythwolf/pseuds/slythwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened? Well, the way of things is this: what happens in a story is what the reader believes happens. So that an author can tell the readers, this character is not a hero, and the readers can know she's wrong. In much the same way, the way it ends is the way the reader believes it ends. What lives and breathes about a story does so in the reader's heart. Here is what lives and breathes in mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Is Well or What Really Happened

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of companion piece to my post-OotP fic 'All Dogs Go' and to my first post-DH fic 'The Death of Rats'. Therefore, shades of Discworld. For unrelated reasons, shades of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Written for snape_after_dh. Prompt: 'The epilogue that should have been.'

In the end it was Neville Longbottom who volunteered to go and retrieve the body. 'I misjudged him,' he said, squaring his shoulders. 'I know that was his plan, for none of us to know what he was up to, but it's no excuse.'

Minerva nodded. 'We all did,' she said. 'I'd go myself, but--' There was no need to explain; Neville knew what she meant--the survivors, huddled in groups at the house tables, their voices falling silent as the celebratory mood wore off and they remembered who wasn't there to cheer along.

Luna Lovegood stepped forward, her strange moon-like eyes shining as she slipped her hand into Neville's. 'I'll go with you.'

 

Harry had said the body would be in the Shrieking Shack, so the problem was working out how to get inside. Harry had obviously known, and Ron and Hermione, but they had gone back up to Gryffindor tower to get some sleep, and Neville reckoned it would be sort of disrespectful to go and wake them. Then Luna thought of heading out to Hogsmeade and Apparating in; they went to the Room of Requirement and set off down the passageway to the Hog's Head.

Walking up the road toward the Shack, with the sun lighting the sky behind it, Neville and Luna almost missed the fiery shape slipping between the boards of an upstairs window and launching itself into the sky; but against the sun, its light seemed somehow brighter. When it spread flaming wings and shot toward the castle, Neville realised what it was: a phoenix. Luna must have thought it meant something, because she broke into a run. Neville was struck motionless for a long moment behind her, watching the sunlight play across her streaming hair. Then he thought he'd better catch up.

Getting inside was easier than they had expected. Knowing what everyone now knew about Professor Lupin, Neville had thought maybe there would be decades-old wards lingering about the place that might prevent their Apparation. But no; two almost-simultaneous 'pop's and they were in. And there he was, Professor Severus Snape, slumped on the floor in a puddle of his own blood.

What struck Neville as odd, though, what really seemed strange to him, was that little, weak, unsteady, infrequent waves of blood were still coming out of the four big holes in his neck.

'His heart,' Luna breathed.

'What?'

'Those--pulses of blood,' she said. 'I think they mean his heart's still beating. Neville,' and she turned wide, startled silvery eyes on him, 'we've got to get him to the hospital wing.'

After that it was a jumble of tearing strips of Neville's robe for a makeshift bandage and Apparating--crack!--right into the Hog's Head and hurrying along the passageway, and Luna was better at charms so it was she who cast Levicorpus on Professor Snape's--on Professor Snape and they were running, running down the corridor, shouting, 'Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! He's still alive!'

 

And Severus Snape was, for what Harry Potter and his little friends hadn't noticed, when they left him to rot there in the Shack, was what else had been happening in that room. When he had blinked and staggered to his feet, wondering briefly why his body hadn't come with him, the first thing his gaze had fallen upon was--a door.

It was a large, old, heavy door made of a wood so dark it was almost black. When Severus opened it, the hinges creaked, and he stepped through. Within, he found a dark, flat, endless desert, and when he walked, the black sand floated up in gravity-defying puffs around his feet. He turned, thinking to open the door again, but it had gone; when he turned back, he discovered he wasn't alone.

GOOD MORNING, said Death.

'I see very little good about it,' Severus snapped peevishly.

I SUPPOSE NOT, said Death. THEN AGAIN, YOU MAY BE GRATIFIED TO LEARN THAT YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

'I beg your pardon?' Severus said.

Death reached into one of his voluminous sleeves and produced a small hourglass; barely a quarter of the glowing sand inside had fallen. IT IS NOT YOUR TIME.

'You'll forgive me,' said Severus, 'if I have a certain difficulty believing that.'

Death shook his--well, skull. IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I'VE HAD A SITUATION LIKE THIS, he said. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE--PEOPLE SAYING THEY'VE HAD NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES, TELLING EVERYONE THEY KNOW ABOUT LEAVING THEIR BODIES AND MOVING TOWARD THE LIGHT. THAT ISN'T HOW IT WORKS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR HALLUCINATIONS. He paused. TO TELL YOU THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH, he said, I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE HOW YOU MANAGED TO FIND THE DOOR.

'By looking,' said Severus acidly.

Death coughed. IN FACT, he said, WHAT I MEANT WAS: HOW COULD YOU HAVE COME TO BE HERE WHEN YOU ARE NOT DEAD?

'I don't see,' said Severus, becoming impatient, 'how I can possibly not be dead after I have just been killed by an enormous bloody snake.'

AH, said Death. THAT IS A VERY GOOD QUESTION WHICH I AM NOT IN A POSITION TO ANSWER. REST ASSURED, HOWEVER, THAT IT IS TRUE. He paused. INDEED, YOU MAY BE HAPPY TO LEARN THAT SOMEONE HAS COME TO SEE YOU.

'What?'

A woman stepped out from behind Death. Severus recognised her instantly; she had dark brown hair, and her face was made of all the wrong shapes, but he would know those eyes anywhere.

'Lily?'

'Sev.' She smiled sadly. 'I'm so sorry.'

'You're sorry?' He let out a sharp laugh. 'What have you to be sorry for?'

Lily sighed. 'I was supposed to help you,' she said. 'That was one of my tasks, and I failed. It was one of the lessons I didn't learn: not to give up on you.'

'You were right to give up on me,' he said, feeling helpless.

'No,' Lily insisted. 'You needed someone to lean on who believed in you. Yes, you did some wrong things, but so did I, and I abandoned you when I should have helped you find your way.' She looked away. 'In the end you did the right thing after all, and I thank you for that--for watching over Harry. Even though you didn't want to.'

'Lily--I--' he tried, shaking his head. 'I never meant--'

'I know. It's all right.' She took a step forward and embraced him. 'It's all right, Severus. I do love you; I always will. Just not in the way you wanted.' She pulled back, holding him at arm's length, and peered seriously into his eyes. 'Is it enough?'

Severus just looked at her for a moment, reeling, thinking how important it was not to hurt her, to tell her what he knew she needed to hear.

'Yes,' he said, and found to his surprise that it was true.

Death tried, and failed, to cough discreetly: AHEM.

'I have to go,' said Lily, dropping her hands from Severus' shoulders. 'I have to meet Remus soon, and then I'll need to change before Harry--well.' She took his hand. 'We've got to get you back.'

'Back?' said Severus. 'I can't stay with you?'

Lily's sad smile almost broke his heart. 'No, Sev. You've got too much work left to do.' She reached out, and suddenly her hand was on that ancient iron doorknob. She pulled the door open effortlessly and shoved Severus through. 'Never fear,' she whispered, 'I'll see you again someday.' He tried to hold tight to her hand but she slipped away into blackness, and the door closed with a dull thud.

 

It was at dinner that evening that Saint Potter finally deigned to crawl out from his cocoon and return to the land of the living. He and his Weasel and his Mu--and Granger sat together at the end of the Gryffindor table, the Weasel's troublesome little sister joining them, and Draco sat with Mother and Father, watching sullenly as they talked and laughed and enjoyed their repast. Draco therefore didn't notice McGonagall approaching until she was actually before them.

'Mr Malfoy,' she began, her face looking very pinched. She paused, seeming to take in Mother and Father beside him, and to her credit made a respectable effort to paste a polite smile onto her face. 'Lucius. Narcissa.'

'Minerva,' said Mother evenly.

'While Hogwarts hospitality--' said McGonagall--'that is, I think perhaps the time has come--'

'You want us to leave,' said Mother.

'I think it might be best,' said McGonagall primly.

Draco glared at her, outraged. 'I'm Head Boy! You can't kick me out of school!'

McGonagall glared right back at him. 'I rather thought I already had.'

'Professor--' interrupted Potter from behind them. Draco turned to sneer at him, then thought better of it when Potter came out with, 'Let them stay. They're not doing any harm.' He nodded at Mother, as if he had any right.

Mother nodded back, in what, had Draco not known any better, he would have taken for a sign of respect between equals. 'As it happens,' she said, 'my husband and I were planning to return home this evening.'

'Then you won't find any difficulty in taking your son with you,' said McGonagall.

'Come on, Professor,' said Potter. 'Don't kick Malfoy out of school. And--and let the rest of the Slytherins come back.' McGonagall was staring at him as if she had never seen him before. 'They're just kids,' Potter went on wretchedly. 'You can't hold them responsible for something this big. They had every reason to be scared.'

'Mr Potter,' said McGonagall severely, 'I thought you of all people--'

'And anyway,' said Potter, drawing himself up to his full height (which wasn't particularly impressive, Draco noted), 'it isn't your decision anymore. You're only _Deputy_ Headmistress.'

McGonagall did a bit of sputtering after that, but eventually she went away. Potter, however, stayed.

He stood shuffling his feet for an interminable amount of time, putting Draco quite off his feed. But just as he was about to snap, 'Go away, Potter,' Potter looked up at Mother, seeming to come to a decision.

'Mrs Malfoy,' he said, then stopped, looking at his hands. 'Listen, I know you didn't do it for me, but you--you didn't have to do what you did. And I wanted to say thank you.'

Mother nodded at him again. 'You're right, Potter. I didn't do it for you.' She almost smiled. 'But I'm glad I could help.'

Then Potter turned to Draco. 'Malfoy,' he began. 'I don't like you, and you don't like me.' Draco was stunned by this display of perspicacity. 'But there's no reason for us to be enemies anymore. So--I brought you something.' He reached into his robes.

'Potter, that's really not necessary,' said Draco, highly alarmed.

'No, it really is,' said Potter. He produced Draco's wand, and proffered it. 'Well--go ahead. Take it.'

Draco stared. 'So--Potter, let me see if I can work this out. The best thing you could think to bring as a peace offering was something I already owned that you stole from me?'

'Be that way about it if you want to,' said Potter. 'I don't have to give it back to you.' He started to withdraw the hand holding the wand, but Draco snatched it from him.

'This changes nothing,' said Draco.

'Of course,' said Potter solemnly.

'I intend to go on cheerfully despising you while there is breath left in my body,' Draco warned.

'Wouldn't expect anything less,' said Potter.

'As long as that's clear,' said Draco. He paused. 'But thank you, incidentally, for saving my life.'

Potter shrugged, looking away. 'It's nothing personal,' he said. 'I just--I have a saving-people thing.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Of _course_ you do.' He watched in exasperation as Potter continued to stand there like an utter git. 'Well, run along, Potty. Your girlfriend's waiting.'

Potter looked round, and his face lit up as he saw the Weaselette standing near the Great Hall doors. Without even the courtesy of a proper farewell, he ran off toward her.

'Well,' said Draco, pocketing his wand and smiling down at Mother, 'that was disturbing.'

Father, who had been watching the proceedings in stunned silence, cleared his throat. 'That boy,' he said, 'has absolutely no class.'

'None,' agreed Mother, chuckling.

Then a woman with brown hair, who otherwise looked rather a lot like Aunt Bella, timidly approached their end of the Slytherin table, carrying a baby, and suddenly Draco had another aunt he hadn't known about and a brand new second cousin and he didn't have time to think about Potter anymore, which he would have considered a blessing had he considered it at all.

 

Severus Snape awoke to a bright blur and the shuffling sound of someone walking across a wood floor in leather shoes. He blinked once, then again, and tried to focus. 'What happened?' he croaked, trying to sit up; sharp pain exploded behind his eyes.

Firm hands pushed him back down onto what must be a bed. 'You had a very rough time of it,' said a familiar voice--Poppy Pomfrey. The hospital wing--Hogwarts. 'Harry Potter told us how brave you'd been, and Neville Longbottom and that strange Lovegood girl volunteered to go and get your body, but then when they found you your heart was still beating. You'd hardly any blood left and it's taken us three days to get enough Blood-Replenishing Potion into you to allow you to wake up--you're very lucky they found you when they did, or I wouldn't have been able to get you into stasis in time.' Something was pressed against his lips. 'Drink your Invigoration Draught, it'll do you the world of good.'

Obediently, he gulped at the potion, trying not to choke; swallowing hurt, and for the first time he became aware that there were heavy bandages at his throat.

'There, now,' said Poppy. He peered up at her, squinting. 'You'll be all right, Severus. Just take a bit of time. I can tell you, I'm glad to have you back; you know Gryffindors, good in a battle all right but do they think of how many pieces there'll be to pick up after--or of who? I think the stores will hold us until you're well enough to be released but I'll need you making healing potions just as soon as you're able. Get back to sleep, now; plenty of time for waking later,' and she tucked the covers firmly about his chin. He tried to protest, but found himself sinking back into oblivion before he could make a sound.

 

The second time he woke, he had far less trouble focusing his eyes. It was sunset; the orange glow from the west-facing windows gilded the dust motes floating in the air of the hospital wing. Poppy was at the next bed, changing a bandage on the Brown girl's face, her plump hands gentle and her manner kind.

'I can only assume,' said Severus, not trying to sit up this time, 'that the Dark Lord has been defeated.'

'Oh yes,' said Poppy, not looking up from her work, 'I forgot you'll have missed all that, Severus; Voldemort was killed by his own rebounding curse. Harry Potter's spell reflected it.' She smoothed the new bandage flat and spelled it in place. 'There you are dear, all set; I'll check it again tomorrow.' Miss Brown nodded, nestling down into her covers and closing her eyes.

Severus found his voice again. 'Potter is alive?'

'He is,' said Poppy, 'though he gave us all a fright there for a while; we all thought Voldemort had killed him, you see, but it was a ruse.'

'Albus told me--'

'--that Harry had to die, yes, he told us,' said Poppy. 'But it turns out because he was willing to make the sacrifice, he didn't have to.' She looked at him quizzically. 'Perhaps the same can be said for you.'

Severus didn't think so; but he was so deeply sleepy, he thought he'd mention it tomorrow.

 

It was around lunchtime the following day that he woke up properly, to his profound chagrin; Harry Potter was sitting at his bedside, reading a book.

'Potter,' Severus snarled. 'What do you want?'

Potter looked up, slightly startled, and closed the book on his finger. Severus hastily averted his eyes from the boy's.

'Professor,' said Potter quietly. 'I wanted you to know--' He gulped. 'Everyone knows about--about you and my mum.'

'It's hardly anyone's business,' Severus spat, mortified.

'I know,' said Potter. 'I'm sorry. I thought you were dead, and I thought it was more important for people to know the truth. It was a judgment call, and I made the wrong one.'

I don't want _you_ to know, Severus thought bitterly. He reflected that he would never have given Potter half those memories if he had thought either of them were going to survive.

'Anyway,' Potter said after a moment. 'I'm sorry, and--and I wanted to thank you. For everything you've done. You--my mum's dying wish--I'm sure she's--she would have been grateful.' She is, Severus didn't say. 'And--I'm grateful too. If it hadn't been for you, none of this could have happened.'

Severus looked at him then, but Potter was gazing out the window. Perhaps he had to pretend he wasn't talking to Severus at all, in order to say these things.

'If it hadn't been for you,' he said, 'Riddle would never have given her the chance--to stand aside. And if she hadn't been given that choice, I'd have died that night.' He paused. 'And then--you spent all that time making sure--I was all right. For her. So really, it was you and my mum, together, who defeated him. Even if you didn't know it, you were working together.' Potter met his gaze, and Severus couldn't look away. 'So thank you. And--I hope you feel better soon.'

Severus didn't know what to say.

The boy rose, walked to the door. He stopped for a moment, one hand on the doorframe, but didn't look back. Then he had gone.

 

It was to be the first of many visits during his convalescence. Only almost die for something they believed in, Severus reflected, and suddenly Gryffindors who had previously hated you would be fawning all over you. It was disgusting, and he had almost made up his mind to tell Poppy to stop letting them in. However, it was one way to hear the news--mostly about the repair efforts and who had or had not died, but of course there was far too much gossip of a personal nature about which Severus hardly understood why he should be expected to care. Why, after all, should it matter to him if Potter and his friends were to be allowed to come back next year to prepare for their NEWTs, or that Fawkes had returned to the Headmaster's office, or whether Bill Weasley's wife was pregnant? It was no business of his.

Then, on the day before he was to be released from the hospital wing, someone came to see him who would have seemed an even more unlikely visitor than Potter.

It was Neville Longbottom.

Longbottom entered the room and sat in the chair that Potter had vacated several weeks before. 'Good morning, Professor,' he said, smiling slightly, and Severus realised with a shock that, at some point during the past year, the boy had ceased to fear him.

'Longbottom,' he said flatly.

'I thought I'd better vist you at least once,' said Longbottom. 'And then Professor McGonagall said I should talk to you about--well, I don't know if you know this, but Professor Sprout wants to retire, and she and Professor McGonagall thought--I've got a NEWT in Herbology, an O, and they thought I might like to take the position.' He looked at Severus expectantly.

Severus blinked at him. 'And?'

Longbottom chuckled, a bit nervously. 'Well--Professor McGonagall said I had to talk to you about it, sir. Because you're the Headmaster.'

'I am?' the words were out before Severus could check them; he was instantly aware that he sounded like an idiot, but there was nothing for it now.

'Well, yes,' said Longbottom. 'Didn't anyone tell you?--Well, I suppose that's a silly question,' he said, blinking. 'Nobody's been thinking about it, really. But of course you are, sir. Fawkes has been sitting in the office these three weeks and won't let anyone inside; we think he's waiting for you. There's no reason for you to leave the position--unless you want to, I suppose.'

Severus paused, thinking about it. He could give up teaching, if he wanted--give up the whole thing, retire, go to some little tropical island and lie on the beach until the day he died--take the money in his Gringotts account and--But that was just it, wasn't it? There was hardly any money. Oh, it would be enough for a shack on the beach, but he realised--that wasn't what he wanted. As stressful as it had been--and most of that stress had been a result of the war, which was over now--he had _enjoyed_ being in charge of the entire school for what little time he'd had the position. It had been less annoying than having to deal personally with all the students, and he had been able--this was the good bit--it had been his _job_ to _tell everyone what to do_.

He looked at Longbottom, and something happened then that would have frightened the life out of every Gryffindor first year in the school.

Severus Snape began to smile.

 

As it turned out there were far more arrangements to be made than just for Neville Longbottom to take the Herbology position, and Severus found several occasions to regret his decision and think wistfully of that beach shack idea he had rejected. Within a week, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick announced their intention to run off together to, of all places, Peru; after that teachers were retiring willy-nilly, and it seemed he would be left with no staff at all. The new Ministry had quickly determined that Longbottom should be Deputy Headmaster, against Severus' halfhearted objections that he was inexperienced; partly out of spite, and partly to see what the boy was capable of, Severus asked him to be head of Gryffindor as well. Vivien Vector volunteered to serve as head of Ravenclaw for a few years, just until someone suitable could be found.

Unfortunately it seemed most of the recent school-leavers planned to become either Aurors or Quidditch stars, and so Severus was obliged to find new teachers elsewhere.

 

It seemed odd to have two candidates at once waiting outside his office to be interviewed. Severus paced, aware that he would have to admit one of them soon.

'Albus,' he said at last, in exasperation, 'are you sure this is strictly necessary?'

'Absolutely,' said Albus Dumbledore's portrait. 'Their credentials are excellent. Besides, where else are you going to find qualified teachers this soon after the war? You have to take what you can get, Severus.'

Severus sighed. 'I know it. But, Albus, really--Americans?'

 

Narmotira Monnsanger and Maris Witt were not nearly as bad as Severus had expected, although he suspected this might be because he had seen so many things so much worse than a mere pair of recent graduates from the Salem Witches' Institute's doctorate program.

They were as different in appearance as they were alike in temperament. Dr Monnsanger was tall and slightly disproportionate, with long skinny limbs, wide hips and half-moon spectacles. Dr Witt was even taller and--ample, Severus thought was perhaps the best word for it, hourglass-shaped and ample in the way prehistoric goddess figurines were ample. They were both inappropriately cheerful, prone to looking at each other and _laughing_ at the most unlikely things, but they knew their subjects.

Dr Monnsanger's specialty was Potions, and in particular the psychiatric applications thereof. She had written her dissertation on the use of Felix Felicis in controlled doses to treat clinical depression, and was the author of several articles in respected American potions journals. Severus, of course, did not subscribe to any American journals, so that could not possibly be why her surname was familiar to him.

'Monnsanger,' he mused. 'Where have I heard that name before?'

She looked at Dr Witt, raising an eyebrow; Witt nodded almost imperceptibly. Monnsanger turned back to Severus. 'It's an old German werewolf family. Moon-singer. My mother's name.'

Severus scowled at her. 'I believe the parents generally frown upon our exposing the children to werewolves.'

Monnsanger blinked. 'Oh, I'm not a werewolf,' she said. 'I mean, when the family was in Germany of course they only intermarried with other werewolves, but when they emigrated--well, the methods are lost to us now, of course, but when the family married into the Navajo they managed to cure the Curse.' She smiled toothily. 'What we are now is something different.'

'Skinwalkers,' said Dr Witt helpfully. 'They're born with it. The rest of us have to work at it.'

Dr Monnsanger smacked her playfully on the shoulder. These Americans were so... _tactile_. 'You didn't have to go into Transfiguration if you didn't want to.' She looked back at Severus, saying conspiratorially, 'Maris here can be a real _bear_ when she's angry.' This caused Dr Witt to dissolve into helpless giggles.

Severus abhorred cheap puns.

 

It wasn't until several years later that Severus finally found a remotely qualified candidate for the Defence position. Thank god the man was an Englishman--a Mr Rupert Giles, a gentleman with extensive experience in both Defence Against the Dark Arts and teaching, who like Severus had flirted with the Dark in his youth and come back from it and who had lived on top of a Hellmouth for several years.

In their correspondence Mr Giles revealed that he knew a young woman, Willow Rosenberg, who might be able to take the Muggle Studies position (which Professors Monnsanger and Witt had been juggling), and offered to bring her along when he came for his interview. Severus acquiesced, and was in fact rather impressed with Ms Rosenberg when he met her. He hired both of them immediately and appointed Professor Giles head of Ravenclaw, allowing Vivien to retire to Bora Bora as she had been meaning to do.

 

On 1 September 2017 he decided he must be getting old, because there--among the first years entering the Hall--he would swear he saw Harry Potter. But not Harry Potter as he was today, star of the Aurors and Riddle's vanquisher--no; Harry Potter at the age of eleven, all skinny elbows, messy hair and giant green eyes behind ugly spectacles. And there, standing next to him, talking and laughing with him, was a boy who could be no one else but eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy.

Severus blinked, and realised that of course these must be their respective sons.

It had been easier to take last year when Potter's eldest had enrolled. He looked more like his uncle George than anyone (apart from having both his ears), but this child--not only the spitting image of his father--had his grandmother's eyes.

His grandmother. Severus hadn't thought about it until now, but Lily was a grandmother. Which made him old enough to be a grand _father_.

He shuddered.

Ah, but there, near the front of the line, was a child he would have recognised anywhere. Half a head taller than her nearest peers, lanky and full of self-assurance, with Lilith's long, solemn face and Jessica's springy black curls: little Amanda Callahan-Davis. Severus smiled. She would be in Slytherin for sure.

Sure enough, when Neville called out, 'Callahan-Davis, Amanda!' from the list, the Hat spent barely five seconds on her head before shouting, 'SLYTHERIN!'

Narmotira, sitting on his left and now head of Slytherin, leaned over to say quietly, 'I think that one's going to be trouble.'

'You have no idea,' said Severus, watching as 'Dursley, Harriet' put on the Hat.

There seemed to be rather a lot of Gryffindors in this cohort. Severus had nearly ceased to pay attention when 'Malfoy, Scorpius' was Sorted into Slytherin. A few Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw, and then it was the Potter child's turn.

Neville paused, looked up at Severus and lifted one eyebrow, smirking, then read, 'Potter, Albus!'

Of course, Severus thought; Potter _would_ name his child after the manipulative old coot. He wondered if Potter had ever learned the whole story there.

It had been quite some time that the Hat had been sitting on the boy's head, saying nothing, but suddenly it cried out, 'SLYTHERIN!'

Oh dear, Severus thought, cheered immensely. His family won't like that at all. He almost grinned, heartily congratulating himself on his good fortune in escaping from his position as head of Slytherin House _before_ Potters began colonising the place.

It wasn't until after the feast, when he was sitting in his office and going over the first years' timetables, that he discovered Potter's son's _middle_ name. It was an unforgivable imposition--although he supposed at this point there was nothing to be done about it, and he was not about to acknowledge Potter's existence after all this time with a Howler about what the man had chosen to name his second son. But it would be extremely satisfying. Maybe he would do it tomorrow, if he found the time.

For now, however, he could approve these timetables and go off to bed, secure in the knowledge that whatever either or both of Potter's sons might get up to, he, Headmaster Severus Snape, had the power to make certain they didn't get away with any of it.

He smiled. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't mind the OCs--it's a new era, after all. I couldn't resist the temptation to put Giles in the DADA position and then of course Willow would tag along, although I had to wait until 2003 when season 7 of Buffy ended before I could send them in. The thing with Minerva and Filius--I had to make a reference to Maya's _A Distinctly Different Manner of Finding Prince Charming_ , which is one of my favourite fics and quite probably my favourite hetfic.


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